Chapter 22: The Evil Spirit Warlock officially goes online.
The dusk deepened, growing ever more profound. The pure moonlight was serene and tranquil. The stars scattered across the night sky twinkled like playful sprites. Within the astronomical observatory perched atop the plateau’s summit, the stargazing attendants busily recorded the trajectories of the constellations. This place was renowned as the closest point to the heavens.
Nearby lay the Lamb Farm, a prison holding countless death row inmates. The most vicious criminals were transformed into sheep through a sorcerer’s spell of metamorphosis and bound with unbreakable shackles, forever condemned to live as sheep. In this harsh, frigid mountain expanse, they produced wool, atoning for the crimes they had committed. This was the very reason the plateau prison existed.
Amid the slumbering flock, the once pure moonlight underwent a splendid transformation at some unknown moment. Like blood, a crimson glow spread across the land in an instant. The sheep bleated softly, adding a touch of life to the hazy blood moon.
…
Through the slightly yellowed glass, the waiting rat catcher saw the blood-red light spreading over the earth. When the crimson moonlight met his gaze, Bevis recalled the words Isaac had brought from Zorn earlier that day. He pondered deeply, then looked toward Isaac’s eager face.
“Isaac, the legacy begins now!”
“According to Lord Zorn’s explanation, as hunters, we must possess ample patience.”
“Immerse yourself fully in the sequence’s path, and you will perceive far more.”
“Understood, master!”
…
As the ethereal white moonlight completed its magnificent transformation, a rare celestial phenomenon—the blood moon—descended upon the land! The entire city of Oglan was bathed in this crimson radiance. Many gazed curiously and with awe through their windows at the hazy crimson glow.
Deep in the wild forests, nocturnal fur hunters paused to observe. In a modest, cheap room, a young painter captured this moment—the scarlet window, the blood-colored veil. A young noble reached out his hand, clutching the first ray of crimson light woven with night in his palm.
Zorn, long prepared, began chanting the ancient and proper rites of the Tæus legacy at this forbidden moment, as the scarlet glow adorned the earth. He anchored his point in a secret corner of the starry sky, unknown to any.
Within the original trajectory.
At an incorrect temporal node.
Using words in the ancient spell that lacked deep resonance.
Anchoring at a shallow, vulnerable spot, easily targeted.
All these factors caused Zorn Corick to inherit the power of the Malevolent Spirit Sorcerer, but also to be corrupted, disturbed, and increasingly twisted and maddened by that power.
Yet, all this was fully rectified by the thoroughly prepared Zorn.
His anchoring point was perfect, flawless and beyond reproach.
Having completed everything…
“Er… gu… nu…s…”
“Er… gu… nu…s…”
Low whispers slowly seeped into Zorn’s body and soul, swelling amidst screams and madness until a perfect fusion was achieved.
As the power of the Malevolent Spirit Sorcerer sequence filled Zorn’s body, a flood of complex ancient memories surged forth.
…
For a moment, Zorn lost control over his own body.
“Gurgle… hunger…”
“Gurgle… I’m… so… hungry!”
“I need delicious food!”
A primal scream from the depths of his soul filled him with an irresistible hunger.
The Malevolent Spirit Sorcerer craved sustenance—flesh and soul.
Especially the “spiritual soul” that drifts from the body after death, a most exquisite delicacy.
To snuff out life in one’s hands, the pain and wails seasoning the feast, the fading of life’s spiritual soul the true gourmet pleasure.
He now desperately needed slaughter and death.
Suppressing the maddening hunger, Zorn approached the “food” he had long prepared.
Inside an iron cage beside him were plump, glossy-furred mutated gray rats.
He had recently purchased many gray and mutated gray rats from the rat catcher.
He extended his right hand.
Only then did he notice it was shriveled and withered, like dead wood.
His cheek was the same—dry and hollow.
“Heh heh…”
He gave two dry laughs, rough and grating like scraping iron sheets.
Then he slowly stretched out his palm.
As a master spellcaster himself, controlling the Malevolent Spirit Sorcerer power came naturally.
“Life Drain.”
He instinctively invoked this ability.
A fundamental skill of the world-class boss, the Malevolent Spirit Sorcerer, devouring life was as simple as eating or drinking—just like putting food into one’s mouth.
“Gurgle…”
The dozens of rats in the iron cage sensed something. They screamed and scattered in panic.
But trapped within the cage, where could they possibly flee?
Gurgle…
Life force, source essence, and the weak spiritual souls of these rodents were swiftly drawn out, forming a faint, blood-colored mist.
Zorn absorbed and digested it all.
There were over forty normal gray rats and about ten mutated ones.
One mutated rat provided nearly as much life, source essence, and spiritual soul as five normal rats.
As Zorn drained their life, the rats shriveled and sunken like dried husks.
When all fifty or so were thoroughly consumed, his hunger eased considerably, no longer clouding his thoughts or judgment.
Raising his hand, the once blackened, withered arm and palm regained a little vitality and a faint sheen, though still somewhat desiccated.
“Truly, the flawless Malevolent Spirit Sorcerer sequence demands an astonishing foundation.”
“Keep in mind, I’m already a Star Scar Fighter, yet the burden remains heavy.”
“Thankfully, I was well prepared, or else this uncontrollable hunger would have driven me to slaughter innocent townsfolk.”
“At present… my condition is far too conspicuous.”
“Looks like it’s time to resume my Sewer War God plan.”
Zorn rubbed his brow and smiled.
Silently, he pushed open the door and slipped into the scarlet glow of the blood moon.
…
He raised his head to the blood moon hanging in the heavens.
The blood moon had just risen, its halo growing ever clearer.
The grand spectacle was only just beginning.
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