Chapter 6 The Battle of the Mage

The first time Wayne signed an unequal treaty, he was a bit nervous. He frantically flipped through The Book of Greed, eager to see who the luckless victim was.

But the outcome wasn't good. Not only was the contract party not a living person, it wasn't even a human.

A dog!

The moment the contract was signed, a table of contents appeared on the second page. Upon opening the page where the Resentful Spirit resided, the first servant's true form was revealed.

A ghastly hound, half of its body rotten, its gums exposed, one eye a cloudy white and the other a pitch-black socket, its rib cage bared, and all of its internal organs missing from the abdominal cavity.

The remaining black fur stuck to the decaying flesh, and a black-yellow unidentified fluid oozed out like glue, the combined effort barely holding the broken body together.

Such a nauseating sight, even though it was just an image, made Wayne almost catch a whiff of a horrendous stench that made him retch.

"yue~~~"

He gagged twice, almost vomiting in the car.

"Buddy, if you dare to puke in the car, I dare to throw you out," the taxi driver said with great dissatisfaction. The car was his lover, and he wouldn't allow anyone to mess it up.

"You can't blame me, the smell in your car is too strong." Wayne immediately retorted, implying that it was the smell of the driver's beloved that was too overpowering.

With that incident behind him, Wayne continued flipping through the pages of the Resentful Spirit, and he received both good news and bad news.

The Resentful Spirit was a dependent. In strict terms, the moment it became a Resentful Spirit, it was no longer a vengeful ghost, but a magical being transformed by The Book of Greed.

As Wayne's dependent, servant, and summoned creature, all its actions depended on Wayne's magic power, and only Wayne's magic power could feed it.

Wayne had no magic power; the ability to open The Book of Greed and sign the first dependent was all thanks to William's magic cast upon him.

Therefore, he could not summon the dependent and command it.

If it didn't receive its master's magic power for an extended period, the Resentful Spirit would go mad from hunger until it completely vanished.

At this point, the Resentful Spirit had two choices.

First, devour its master and gain freedom, wandering in the Night Mist to become a new urban legend.

Second, wait in place for its demise, offering its master the most sincere curse before death.

Reading this, Wayne got the chills, afraid that the dependent might appear in his dreams in the dead of night.

He comforted himself by thinking that dogs are loyal and are humanity's best friends. What bad intentions could a dog have, surely it couldn't actually devour its master.

The good news was that the contract and the sacrifice had some similar effects. Wayne gained some of the dependent's abilities, namely, scent and Supernatural Sensing.

There wasn't much to say about the sense of smell; it was what dogs were best at. Supernatural Sensing, too, was easy to comprehend. In humans it would be called a sixth sense, but in dogs, it was an instinct of wild beasts.

These two abilities didn't require magic power to use. As soon as he got them, they instinctively integrated into Wayne's being, becoming part of his routine. If he used magic power, he could even enhance the range and intensity of these two abilities.

Too bad he couldn't, because he had no magic power.

Why did it turn out like this...

The first time he opened The Book of Greed and signed a dependent to become part of the extraordinary, it was a combination of two joyous occasions. And these two joyous occasions should have brought even more happiness, should have been a dream-like blissful time...

But, why, did it turn out like this...

Why are they all auxiliary skills? Not a single offensive skill?

Until the evening, until the taxi reached the warehouse district, Wayne was still feeling sorry for himself.

Vulnerable, weak, and pitiable as a newbie, the sprawling warehouses seemed to him like a stalking behemoth, ready to tear him to pieces the moment he stepped in.

The stronghold of the Death cultists was at warehouse No. 66 in section F, a minimum twenty-minute walk away. Was it still possible to learn magic now?

Wayne's face was the picture of dismay. Under his speechless gaze, Veronica took the lead and made a detour towards the back of warehouse No. 66 in section F.

Splitting into two groups to surround the target from front and back - this was the rhythm of a complete rout!

"Wayne, I admire your courage and your conviction to fight against the forces of darkness to the end. You came along, even scared to death," William saluted with two fingers and dragged Wayne forward with his other hand.

"Humanity's hymn is a hymn of courage. For justice, I am willing to contribute my meager strength," Wayne muttered dispassionately. He had followed out of fear of missing Veronica and William and not knowing when he would meet another mage, not because of courage and conviction.

"Don't panic. Veronica is very strong, and with me here, you won't be harmed,"

Wayne secretly hoped this to be true!

It had to be said that, although William was gay and had a strong ability to attract others of the same sex, his robust frame also provided a strong sense of security. With him there, Wayne felt much more at ease.

And William was right - Veronica was indeed formidable. With her delicate face and slender figure, one could easily draw nine-figure sums behind her back. Should any mishap befall them, Veronica alone could attract all enemy fire.

————

As six o'clock in the evening approached and the sun set below the horizon, sporadic street lights lit up the warehouse district.

Fog followed, hazy and veil-like, gently shrouding the entirety of Lundan City.

Hardly having acquired his Supernatural Sensing, Wayne already sensed an ominous premonition due to the thin mist, his intuition telling him that Lundan's night was truly dangerous. The solution was to hurry home and lie in bed, sealing himself with blankets.

However, the road home veiled in fog was fraught with dangers, and he dared not walk alone at night, choosing instead to stay by William's side.

"The scent of death… a barrier, indeed, it's here..."

From afar, William eyed warehouse No. 66 in section F, taking out a black, hooded cloak from his bag and covering his tall frame.

After thinking it over, he handed another to Wayne - Veronica's Black Robe, which fit Wayne very poorly.

"Stay behind me, and if a fight breaks out, you just stand aside..."

William confidently entered the barrier, aided by the darkness and the fog, a simple detection-type barrier meant more for early warning than offense, suggesting that the Death cultists gathered in the warehouse were average in strength and posed no significant threat.

William easily avoided the barrier's sensing, but Wayne didn't have to, as the heavy scent of death on him led the barrier to identify him as one of its own, nullifying any need for an alarm, no need to disguise at all.

Wayne was concerned about the magic power the barrier could provide him, all magic after all. The Book of Greed could devour William's magic, it surely could swallow the magic barrier of death worshippers. Signing a second contract might just allow him to pick a worthy thrall.

The kind that comes with its own attack skills.

But that didn't happen. The Book of Greed successfully activated, its standards had risen, it wouldn't just consume any trashy magic. From now on, if Wayne wanted to control this book, he'd have to use his own magic power.

And there was the problem again, Wayne had no magic power!

At this moment, Wayne yearned like never before to become a mage.

At the entrance to the warehouse, William was pressing his ear against the door, which could be deemed as either brave and meticulous, or as a lack of infiltration experience.

Wayne watched, frowning. He might be incompetent, having no right to make a comment, but could only assume that this was just how mages operated, crudely.

A moment later, rustling prayers reached William's ears, confirming that the worshippers were collectively praising the Goddess of Death. He quietly pushed open the warehouse door and scurried inside with a crouch.

Wave_hand.JPG

Wayne focused on the swaying hand, wanted to comment but feared disrupting the order at the venue. He looked over at the fog-shrouded warehouse area, everywhere seemed to have Drifting Ghosts, so resignedly he followed suit and crawled inside.

William closed the door politely, muttering something incomprehensible and confidently joined in the collective chorus of the worshippers.

...

In the center of the warehouse, about twenty people were gathered together, all in hooded black robes.

They stood around a candle-lit pattern, hands clenched and crossed over their chests. The dim candlelight failed to cast long shadows for them, the half-visage they showed flickering in the light, their chantings' eerie tones only adding to Wayne's discomfort.

The style was a giveaway; the followers of death were clearly no good bunch.

Wayne passed by shelves, casually grabbed a crowbar in his hand, hummed and hawed pretending to pray, and joined the ranks of the worshippers.

The worshippers were too absorbed to notice two strangers had joined their midst.

Wayne pretended to praise the Goddess, his gaze turning to the candle pattern - a familiar inverted triangle, nothing complicated.

No blood, no sacrifices, hence no scenes of pure maidens being gutted and disemboweled.

As the worshippers' earnest prayers continued, Death responded. The light from the candles shifted to darkness, the inverted triangle symbol momentarily pitch-black as eight tendrils spread out from both sides, pointing towards the ceiling and writhing in disarray.

Wayne was so entranced by the sight, that a low, deep voice seemed to whisper, asking if he was willing to surrender everything unreservedly.

Wait a minute, why does the Goddess of Death sound like a pure man? Wayne was bewildered and puzzled, perhaps the Goddess of Death was actually male, choosing to cross-dress to better harvest the "crops"?

Wayne's wandering thought was a distraction, and the whispering abruptly stopped. He snapped out of his reverie only to find that the surrounding worshippers had ceased their prayers and were all looking at him.

Becoming the focus of the crowd in an instant made Wayne involuntarily swallow.

In the dim surroundings, with the worshippers covering most of their faces, Wayne couldn't see their expressions, he could only guess at their vicious faces and eyes filled with rage.

Ridiculously, William joined the opponents, baring his teeth and snarling, while retreating behind the others.

You said you'd protect me!

"Intruder, this is not a place for you," said someone who stepped forward from the crowd, likely the leader. He waved his hand and prompted his companions to pin Wayne down.

Perhaps smelling the scent of death on Wayne, he chuckled nastily, threatening to give Wayne the Goddess's blessing that very night, fully transforming him into one of them.

Stop kidding, your Goddess is a real man, with a rough voice!

Wayne backed away, placing the crowbar across his chest, ready as the worshippers took their positions, his courage mounting momentarily.

Retracting his prior statement, the crowbar was indeed humanity's best friend.

Then Wayne saw the worshippers one by one grab steel pipes from the shelves, smirking viciously as they approached him.

Wayne, sweating buckets, dryly said, "This is an overreaction, no need for a group brawl. Maybe... let's just use fists, get a lighter sentence."

Bang!!

A silhouette leapt in through the broken high window at the end of the warehouse and sprinted into the center of the warehouse at the speed of a hundred-meter dash.

It was Veronica. She didn't waste the opportunity Wayne had fought for. When the worshippers were away from the candle array, she slammed a glass jar right onto the center of the inverted triangle symbol.

After the crisp shattering sound, a burst of green fog surged up as lively green plants rapidly grew, disrupting Death's rhythm, causing the eight spider legs to quickly wither and droop limply.

"Damn it, it's nature's minion!"

"Catch the heretic, she's destroyed the sacred ritual, she must pay," bellowed the leader. The worshippers howled and turned their attention, brandishing their steel pipes they charged at Veronica.

Just then, the warehouse lights suddenly turned on, William having found the electrical switch on the wall.

Veronica narrowed her eyes, faced with twenty burly men charging at her with steel pipes. She calmly opened her carry-on bag and held a delicate, compact handgun in her hand.

"Nobody move, or I'll shoot," she said.

The worshippers stopped as one, their actions in sync, and under William's shouts, they grudgingly put down their pipes and lined up against the wall, hands up.

Wayne: "..."

Is that it? Done?

This is the brutal clash of beliefs, a mage's fight?

A bunch of cowards, aren't you believers of the Goddess of Death, ready to face death at any moment? Why so afraid to die?

Just a bystander, that pistol at most has ten bullets, and you're twenty people. Just rush her, she can't win!