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In the quiet chamber, candlelight flickered softly while the heavy scroll made of beast hide weighed on Ian's heart. The other man's words, 'endless glory', still echoed in his ears.
It was deeply moving.
They struck a chord deep within his soul.
"Thank you."
Ian solemnly accepted the Bone Inscriptions, crystallizing the lifelong efforts of the Caleb Master lineage. He could feel the gentle yet ancient fluctuations of magical power flowing from the beast-hide cover. He knew that this gift represented far more than just a book; it was an expression of profound trust and scholarly respect that transcended different magical systems.
"You will certainly carry the inheritance of our lineage towards even greater horizons."
Seeing Ian accept it, Caleb revealed a relieved and immensely gratified smile. A sense of unprecedented satisfaction and peace filled his face, as though a lifelong wish had finally been fulfilled.
Rubbing his hands together, he said warmly, "My Lord, you've only just arrived, so you probably haven't found a place to stay yet. If you don't mind, this old man has a quiet little house behind the market district. It's simple, but clean and tidy. You can rest there for the time being; it will make things much more convenient for you."
This Master was clearly a thoughtful man. He knew that Ian was unfamiliar with the area and lacked decent living arrangements.
Ian smiled and gently shook his head, politely declining Caleb's offer.
"Thank you for your generosity, Master Caleb, but I have a long way to go and can't stay long. I'm also used to traveling alone and would like to look around the market a little longer. Perhaps I'll find an inn."
He was telling the truth. He could tell that Caleb sincerely wanted to host him, but he did not want to cause the man too much trouble. Besides, traveling alone was far more convenient.
"But… the rainforest outside is dangerous. Warlords run rampant, and even the Centaur patrols may not be reliable," Caleb said worriedly. "If you have nowhere else to go, why don't you rest here for a few days?"
"I have my own methods." Ian looked towards the gradually darkening sky outside the window. "And besides, my journey itself is a form of wandering. Staying in one place for too long makes people forget the meaning of moving forward."
Caleb no longer insisted and merely let out a deep sigh.
"You're right. Someone like you was never destined to be tied down."
After a brief pause, he continued.
"Very well. Perhaps this is also part of your journey." Seeing Ian's firm attitude, and though somewhat disappointed, Caleb no longer tried to persuade him. Instead, he changed his approach. "If you ever need anything, though, you can come and find me anytime! I still have a bit of influence in this market district."
Looking at the old craftsman, who had devoted his entire life to magical inscriptions, Ian felt a warmth rise within his heart.
"Certainly."
Ian nodded. Then he took something out of his pouch.
It was a small, exquisitely crafted silver pocket watch. Both the outer casing and the dial were engraved with intricate alchemical runes glowing faintly, one of Ian's own creations, refined over time, which possessed functions for displaying the time, warning of danger, and providing a powerful one-time protective barrier.
"Master, consider this little trinket a gift from me in return."
Ian handed the pocket watch to Caleb.
"Perhaps it will help you in a critical situation."
Caleb was overwhelmed with shock and gratitude as he accepted the pocket watch, trembling as he did so. Simply sensing it was enough for him to realize that it was undoubtedly a priceless, top-tier alchemical artifact! Its exquisite complexity far exceeded his imagination!
He knew that this item was worth more than all the "magical inscription artifacts" in his shop combined. It could elevate his inscription techniques to a whole new level, potentially even unraveling certain long-lost mysteries of high-level runes.
"T-This… I cannot accept this!" Caleb hurriedly tried to refuse.
"Please keep it." Ian smiled. "In my hands, it is merely a dead object. But in yours, it could inspire the 'light of enlightenment' in many more children. That is its true purpose."
"If you put it that way… then I can no longer refuse."
Caleb's hands trembled as he repeatedly expressed his thanks, almost bowing again before Ian stopped him with a glance.
He bowed his head deeply.
"Lord Ian… the Enkosi lineage will never forget your kindness for all eternity."
Enkosi was perhaps the origin of this Master's inherited lineage.
"There is no need for thanks."
Ian turned and walked towards the doorway.
"We merely illuminated each other's path for a while."
He pushed open the door. The night wind brushed against his face as he looked up at Africa's starry sky, glittering like diamonds.
"This truly has been a wondrous journey."
Ian cast one final glance at the shop hollowed out of the giant tree. Its dim yellow light seemed like an eternal flame within the darkness.
After bidding farewell to the endlessly grateful Master Caleb, Ian once more merged into the bustling night market.
At that moment, the night market was at its liveliest.
Unlike the noisy bustle of the daytime market, the night-time bazaar had an added air of mystery and wildness.
Fluorite lanterns floated overhead, casting an eerie green light below. Wizards draped in cloaks spoke in hushed voices. The air was thick with the mixed scents of fermented liquor, roasted meat, herbs and gunpowder smoke.
Ian slowed his pace, immersing himself in this magical world, which was completely different to London's Diagon Alley.
Now, with the newly obtained Bone Inscriptions and a fresh understanding of Africa's magical systems in his possession, his mindset while wandering the marketplace had subtly changed. He was no longer eager to uncover bargains or search for specific treasures. Instead, he had become a true observer and traveler, carefully savoring the region's unique atmosphere.
And precisely because of that, Ian quickly discovered that this African 'Diagon Alley' differed from Britain's in countless ways.
The first difference was pets.
In Britain, owls were the standard magical messengers. Owl shops could be seen everywhere, with messenger birds perched obediently on their owners' shoulders. But here, Ian barely saw any owls at all.
Instead, he saw creatures with much larger bodies, broader wingspans, dark brown fur, and enormous ears.
Bats.
Yes.
In this place, bats occupied a status comparable to that of the owls of Hogwarts. In front of a shop called Nightwing, there were dozens of cages hanging in rows.
The bats inside came in all shapes and sizes.
Some were giant bats with eagle-like wingspans, capable of carrying heavy loads while flying. Others were entirely black with crimson eyes, the so-called 'Blood-Eyed Bats'; which were said to be able to see for thousands of miles at night. There were also tiny, delicate 'sonic bats' that could emit directional sound waves for scouting or repelling enemies.
"Buy a Messenger Bat!" the shopkeeper shouted. "They're three times faster than an owl and can slip through ventilation tunnels! Not even the warlords' anti-air charms can stop them!"
"Horse-drawn messenger bats! Fast, stealthy at night, and with unmatched navigation skills! Fully trained and guaranteed!" another vendor loudly advertised.
A massive bat was perched on his shoulder, grooming its fur and occasionally releasing faint ultrasonic squeaks.
"It looks like quite a lot of people are selling pets here, not just specialised shops."
Ian paused briefly.
In Europe, owls were seen as magical messengers, and they were gentle and loyal. Here, however, bats were the norm. They adapted better to rainforest environments, were more agile, and were better equipped for combat.
This once again confirmed the philosophy of survival in the African magical world:
Practicality outweighs tradition.
Ian also noticed a smaller species of bat known as the 'Golden-Furred Striped Bat'. Supposedly gentle in temperament, it had an extremely keen, Niffler-like sense for detecting magical herbs, which made it useful for wizards searching for rare ingredients.
Of course...
Just as Hogwarts allowed cats and toads, bats were not the only unusual pets for sale.
Ian saw baskets filled with brightly colored venomous snakes. Their owners claimed that the snakes had been domesticated to guard homes.
There were also 'Warning Lizards' locked inside cages whose tails buzzed and even the young of a creature called a 'Dream-Eating Tapir,' which was said to be capable of devouring nightmares.
"This thing looks like a miniature warthog with a long trunk."
Ian found this rather amusing.
Soon afterwards, he passed a potion shop whose signboard depicted a melting human head.
The potion shops had plenty of local character, too.
As well as ordinary herbs and animal organs, Ian saw huge quantities of dried insects, scorpions, snakeskin, and bubbling viscous liquids in bizarre colors. The labels displayed names overflowing with savage power:
Crocodile Strength Potion.
Cheetah Agility Potion.
Lion Courage Essence.
The air carried an even more complicated and pungent smell. The shelves were packed with strange bottles and jars containing powders for voodoo dolls made from enemies' hair and bone ash that could inflict curses remotely, as well as concoctions that could grant the drinker the speed and claws of a leopard for a short period of time but which carried the risk of permanent beastification.
All Ian could say was...
"The people here clearly don't place much emphasis on potion safety."
It was extremely haphazard.
Unlike Professor Snape's rigorous potion classroom, these potions resembled battlefield supplies, designed for immediate effect, with no consideration for the long-term consequences.
In some ways, it was even harder to judge than Knockturn Alley.
These concoctions did not qualify as 'mature potions' in Ian's eyes, so his interest in African potion formulas rapidly faded.
"Let's look at something else."
Leaving the potion shop behind, Ian moved on towards the magical artifact stores, which were even more diverse.
As well as professional magical inscription workshops like Master Caleb's, most stores sold magical items rich in tribal flavor:
Totem-carved masks.
Dolls decorated with feathers and seashells.
Drums made from beast hide and bone.
Protective charms were crafted from every conceivable material and in every conceivable shape.
Everything from simple beast fangs to complicated metal talismans could be found. The strangest items of all were the rows of 'magical prosthetics' hanging outside certain shops.
People who had lost arms could purchase artificial limbs equipped with magical mechanisms; some could launch fireballs, and others could release electric nets.
"Cyber magic."
Ian casually browsed as he walked past a bookshop called Ancestral Spirit.
Inside, however, there were no copies of The Standard Book of Spells or Advanced Potion-Making.
Instead, the shelves displayed titles such as:
History of Tribal Wars: Using Magic Against Colonisers
Atlas of Dark Magic: How to Create Zombie Soldiers
Prophecy and Sacrifice: Interpreting the Future Through Living Humans.
The knowledge here was not for examinations.
It existed for survival and battle.
"Just as expected, the House-style approach to learning simply isn't popular here."
Ian continued walking, sighing inwardly.
Diagon Alley was the "civilized showcase" of the magical world: refined, orderly, and imbued with an academic atmosphere. But this marketplace was magic's "frontline base": rough, direct, and permeated with the scent of blood and fire.
Ian even discovered a shop that catered specifically to Animagi!
However, rather than providing guidance on transformation, they focused on custom-made magical equipment and armor designed specifically for one's animal form.
Examples included claw gauntlets engraved with 'Swiftwind' runes for cheetah animagi and forehead armor enchanted with 'Fortification' magical inscriptions for rhinoceros animagi.
This practical yet savage way of thinking greatly broadened Ian's horizons.
Naturally, he also paid special attention to the other magical inscription workshops.
There were several similar stores throughout the marketplace, some with larger signs and far more luxurious decorations.
Ian entered a few and discovered that they mainly specialized in enchanting weapons, armor, and items with magical inscriptions. Their craftsmanship was impressive, but whenever he asked if they could perform magical inscriptions on the human body, he received the same answer.
Only Caleb's shop could perform such inscriptions.
It was obvious.
Just as Ollivander's stood alone in Diagon Alley, Caleb's 'Magical Inscription Artifacts' shop was likewise the only establishment in this African marketplace capable of performing the 'Bone Engraving Enlightenment' ritual for children.
Yes.
In this magical African bazaar, Master Caleb's shop was the pinnacle of its field, a monopoly controlled by a single lineage.
Then again, perhaps this kind of phenomenon was simply a feature of the magical world: in each region, only one family would possess the ability to guide young wizards onto the path of magic.
"Fate truly is mysterious."
Ian muttered softly, a faint smile appearing at the corners of his mouth.
The first shop he entered by chance turned out to belong to the Master, who possessed the most unique and core craft in this land.
Was this merely a coincidence?
Or was it some higher form of guidance?
He looked up at the magical light orbs floating across the marketplace ceiling, as though trying to glimpse traces of fate within them.
Either way, this journey to Africa had already yielded far more than he had expected.
He had confirmed the spacetime coordinates and found clues leading home, and he had encountered an entirely different yet immensely profound magical system.
He had even obtained a precious inheritance.
Ian tucked the Bone Inscriptions more securely against his chest, feeling the weight of the knowledge they contained.
Now, he needed to find somewhere to settle down.
"I should carefully study this extraordinary book while waiting for information broker Babua's message."
The road home still seemed long, but the scenery along the way had already become far more wondrous than he could ever have imagined. The beast-hide scroll rested quietly within his robes, waiting to be interpreted and passed on.
"Come to think of it, this place really feels like a fusion of Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley merged together. There's no clear distinction between dark and white magic here, which makes it a rather unique place."
Ian moved through the noisy African marketplace while the night wind carried the scents of herbs, roasted meat, and distant bonfires.
The marketplace never slept.
Groups of wizards gathered in open-air taverns, exchanging information over palm wine. Vendors sold charms capable of repelling venomous snakes and ointments that enhanced night vision. Several children sat around an elderly witch doctor, listening to tales of 'the battle between the Thunder God and the Ancestral Spirits', stories interwoven with genuine magical knowledge.
"This thing is rather interesting, too."
Ian passed a stall selling "Soul Lanterns"; hollowed beast skulls containing faint spirits within, capable of automatically warding off evil entities.
He also saw a couple performing divination before a "Stone of Destiny." The stone's surface did not reveal the future, but instead displayed a totem formed from the mingling of the two individuals' bloodlines.
None of these things particularly interested Ian.
In the end, he found a small inn near the edge of the marketplace named Tree Shadow Inn.
The inn had been constructed from several gigantic baobab trees. Rooms were carved into hollowed trunks and connected by vine bridges, while enormous waterproof leaves covered the rooftops.
An elderly Night Watcher sat outside the entrance.
The old man was playing a low, deep melody on a bone flute to drive away poisonous insects of the night.
"Do you have any vacant rooms?" Ian asked.
The Night Watcher raised his eyes and sized him up. Seeing that Ian's robes were old yet tidy and that no unpleasant aura surrounded him, he nodded.
"Yes. A 'Quiet Mind Room.' Fifty copper coins for three nights."
Even the currency system here was entirely independent.
Ian paid the fee, and the Night Watcher handed him a bone-crafted key while pointing toward the farthest tree.
"Top floor. Third room on the left. Candles are in the jar, water's in the clay urn, and don't drink from the well, it's got voodoo in it."
That warning left Ian somewhat dumbfounded.
Even the inn contained dark magic.
As expected… This truly was a wild enough place.
(End of Chapter)
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