This thing… is a warlock's artifact!
In every game, there are certain pieces of equipment that provide an insane power spike for specific classes. Having it or not might as well be playing two entirely different games.
And for warlocks, Illusionist's Bracers are that kind of god-tier item—absolutely perfect for them.
They're ridiculously rare, nearly impossible to farm in-game. And their effect? On paper, it doesn't even sound that strong:
When the wearer casts a cantrip, they can immediately cast it again for free.
Now, cantrips do scale with level and key spellcasting attributes, but since they don't consume any spell slots, their power is inherently limited.
Most cantrips can't even match the damage of a 1st-level damaging spell—and those usually come with additional effects on top.
So for most spellcasters, this item is… kind of meh.
But warlocks?
Warlocks are different.
Their unique class feature—Eldritch Invocations—includes options that specifically enhance the Eldritch Blast cantrip.
Like the one Charles had been obsessing over: Agonizing Blast.
With that invocation, Eldritch Blast's damage doubles.
And Eldritch Blast is already the hardest-hitting cantrip in the game—on top of dealing force damage (the least resisted type).
Now imagine doubling that.
The destructive potential is obscene.
Now add Illusionist's Bracers into the mix.
That means firing two Eldritch Blasts—each with doubled damage—for zero resource cost.
The damage output?
Absolutely explosive.
A warlock without Illusionist's Bracers is just a mid-game utility class—decent sustain from short-rest spell slots, but falls off hard in the late game.
A warlock with them?
A hyper-scaled, unstoppable carry—blasting through everything as the team's primary damage dealer!
Worth it.
No matter how brutal last night's fight was… this was an absolute win.
He let out a long breath, his spirits lifting so high he nearly burst into laughter.
Turning his head, he planted a soft kiss on Hattie's cheek. "You truly are my lucky charm, darling."
Hattie beamed with sweetness, while Ruth—on the other side—wore a faintly jealous expression.
Charles then asked, "Hattie, Ruth, do either of you know how one might learn or train to acquire the Agonizing Blast Eldritch Invocation?"
The two witches exchanged glances before Hattie shook her head slightly. "We do not, Master. Such knowledge is often the closely guarded secret of powerful entities—rarely shared with outsiders."
"Even warlocks bound to them may possess such knowledge, but they would never divulge it. So, we too are ignorant of the training methods for these invocations."
Hearing this, Charles couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. Still, he understood—this wasn't a game. He couldn't just click a skill interface a few times and magically absorb esoteric knowledge.
Then, from his other side, Ruth suddenly added, "But Sophia, who has read countless memories... she might know how to obtain this invocation?"
Charles's eyes lit up. "Ah, right! Hah—between the two of you, you should be able to handle her now, yes?"
Though Ruth, once a formidable threat, had now sworn loyalty, that didn't mean they were safe. Sophia remained a festering problem.
After all, this witch knew his greatest secrets. Leaving her free to act would inevitably lead to disaster.
If, after her memory loss, some stray thought misfired and she started blabbing—especially to the other witches—his losses would be catastrophic.
For the sake of his safety and future, Sophia had to be purified—and soon.
Ruth nodded confidently. "Of course. Over the years, Sophia's strength has been waning. She hides it well, but we've all noticed."
"And after the Night of the Witches, she'll remain in a weakened, disoriented state for quite some time—dependent on others' care to recover."
"That will be our best opportunity."
Her eyes gleamed as she spoke. Though her expression remained cool, her tone carried a quiet eagerness as she looked at him.
"Before the Night of the Witches, Sophia even asked me to look after her. So if I make the move, she won't suspect a thing!"
Charles brightened further. Beside him, Hattie quickly added, "She asked me too! Ruth, when the time comes, we can take her down together!"
Ruth nodded in agreement. Relieved, Charles exhaled deeply. "Good. Then all that's left is to wait for Sophia's return."
His mind buzzed with possibilities. "Aside from Theresa, the remaining three witches—Hattie, Ruth, you're confident you can handle them without issue, yes?"
Hattie nodded. "Of course. The other three are weaker than me. With both of us working together, subduing them will be effortless."
Charles grinned. "Perfect. Then now, we wait."
Based on past experience, the witches would likely remain in hiding for two or three more days—perhaps even eight or nine—until they'd completely erased their traces, purged the lingering effects of the Night of the Witches, and restored themselves to peak condition. Only then would they return to the monastery.
This meant things couldn't be rushed. Charles wouldn't be seeing a sudden influx of evolution points anytime soon.
"And then there's... Theresa."
At the mention of that name, Hattie's expression turned troubled. "Unless Sophia regains her former strength, I doubt even all of us combined could subdue Theresa..."
Ruth's face darkened as well. "True. Theresa exists on an entirely different level of power."
"Even if we somehow defeated her, we couldn't contain her. She'd escape if she wished—and likely leave devastation in her wake..."
Her concern was palpable. Charles nodded grimly in agreement.
As a former player, he understood Theresa's capabilities all too well. Not only was she an immensely powerful 11th-level spellcaster—capable of wielding 6th-level spells that could reshape terrain and unleash catastrophic elemental forces—but she also possessed limited precognitive abilities.
The difference between spell tiers wasn't incremental—it was exponential. The gap between 3rd and 2nd-level spells was vast enough, but 6th-level magic existed on an entirely different plane compared to 5th-tier incantations.
Yet her true danger lay in that uncanny foresight. If she sensed impending danger, she'd vanish before threats materialized. Conversely, if she chose to stand her ground, it meant she'd already foreseen victory.
Under normal circumstances, their current forces stood no chance against her.
"Fortunately, Theresa rarely returns to the monastery unless circumstances demand it," he murmured. "If we remain cautious and avoid arousing her suspicion, we should be safe... for now."
Each witch had her own... preferences when harvesting souls. Theresa, with her gift of foresight, delighted in toying with fate itself.
She particularly favored those born into hardship yet determined to rise above it. She'd let them believe fortune had finally smiled upon them—helping them pass coveted exams, secure dream jobs, gain patronage from powerful figures, or win the heart of some beloved.
Then, just as they basked in newfound hope, convinced their diligence was being rewarded... she'd shatter everything.
A terminal diagnosis for cherished parents. A career-ending accident. Their academic spot given to some official's spoiled heir. The crushing revelation that their lover's affection was merely an assigned task.
She relished breaking her chosen victims, twisting them into despair-fueled wrecks before finally claiming their souls at their most deliciously desolate moment.
Naturally, such elaborate schemes required years to unfold. Thus, she seldom returned to the monastery—buying Charles precious time to grow stronger.
"Given six months... perhaps a year at most..." His eyes gleamed as he recalled Theresa's vulnerabilities, a rough plan taking shape. "Then, we'll take her down in one fell swoop!"