Chapter 61: Ritual

The resurrection ritual had succeeded.

But the one the doctor resurrected through the ritual wasn't his child.

It was merely a corpse given life, a living dead.

The soul that inhabited this resurrected body was not his child's, but an evil spirit born from the resentment and hatred of the fetuses and victims the doctor had killed.

These forces, originally formless and unable to cross the boundary between life and death to harm others, had found a vessel the moment the doctor succeeded in reviving his child.

The illusory hatred and the evil spirit now had a place to reside.

They gathered together, forming a being controlled by resentment and hatred—a malevolent spirit that took over this body.

And this evil soul would only grow stronger through continuous slaughter.

Those it killed would become a part of the spirit, their souls forever trapped in this mansion as malevolent entities.

Rod looked at the blood-stained journal, squinting slightly.

The journal ended abruptly here.

So, this was the source of all the evil in this mansion.

According to the journal, the evil spirit was born in the basement, which acted as its womb.

Thus, the spirit was unable to leave the basement.

Once it lost the protection of its womb, the evil spirit would gradually dissipate.

However, it could influence the outside world, luring people into the basement to be killed.

If one died in the mansion, their soul would be devoured by the evil spirit and turned into a puppet.

Those malevolent spirits Rod had encountered earlier were actually puppets controlled by the basement's evil spirit.

Sacrifice!

Without hesitation, Rod sacrificed the journal in his hand.

In addition to recording the birth of the evil spirit, the journal also contained all of the doctor's notes on the resurrection ritual, as well as his knowledge of surgery and biology.

After the sacrifice, Rod couldn't help but marvel.

That doctor was truly talented—just with surgery and some self-taught knowledge, he had managed to blend several real and fake resurrection rituals to create something resembling alchemical golem studies.

Even though it was just a prototype of alchemical golems, it was quite impressive.

If given enough time, he might have actually succeeded in creating a rudimentary resurrection ritual.

But sadly, this talent was no longer alive.

Rod gazed at the empty basement, his eyes narrowing slightly.

The more people the evil spirit killed, the stronger it became.

After hundreds of years of growth, the evil spirit in this basement had grown terrifyingly powerful.

Now, the entire mansion was under its influence.

And yet, here he was, deep in the spirit's territory, and still no attack?

Was it afraid of him, or was it silently preparing a sneak attack?

As this thought crossed his mind, the basement suddenly dimmed.

The bright light seemed to be swallowed by something, and the darkness became so thick that even his fingers were no longer visible.

"It's here!"

Rod's narrowed eyes opened, and he smiled, baring two rows of gleaming white teeth.

He had been waiting for this!

Swish!

In an instant, the giant axe in his hand transformed into the form of the Chaos Blade.

Thick chains wrapped around his arms, and the blade, which glowed eerily, let out a sharp whistle as it swung through the air.

Boom!

With a single strike, everything around him was encased in freezing frost, freezing all in its wake.

Divine power erupted.

A wretched scream nearly shattered his eardrums.

The blade scraped the ground and ceiling, slicing through broken light fixtures and tearing through the steel shelves around him.

Sparks flew, and in the faint light, Rod caught a glimpse of the creature in the dark.

Its body was crisscrossed with stitches, its face hideously grotesque like that of a Frankenstein monster.

Its eyes were pitch black, devoid of any whites.

It crawled on all fours like a beast, glaring at him fiercely from about three meters away.

Behind it, a blood-red trail on the floor slowly slithered toward him.

The light disappeared, plunging the basement back into darkness.

Zzzz!

Rod swung the chain blade again, and sparks flew as the blade scraped the floor.

This time, unfamiliar figures began to appear all around him—one after another, humans who had died miserable deaths, their hands outstretched, reaching for him.

A group of mere evil spirits dared to show themselves in front of him?

Rod smiled, wondering what had given these spirits the courage.

But a sacrifice offered willingly should not be wasted.

"Ow!"

A low growl echoed through the enclosed basement.

Rod's muscles and bones tore painfully, but he had long since grown accustomed to such agony.

In an instant, his clothes ripped apart, and his skin grew covered with dark gray fur as his body became strong and ferocious.

Rod slowly opened his eyes, and the entire world seemed bathed in a layer of red, consumed by bloodlust.

His now elevated viewpoint allowed him to look down at the surrounding spirits.

His mind was completely overtaken by a bloodthirsty beast's instinct.

"Guess how long you'll last?"

Rod licked the sharp fangs at the corner of his mouth, stretching out a clawed hand wrapped in cold chains.

Divine power clashed with his werewolf bloodline, sparking.

He grabbed one of the nearby spirits by the head, and with a light squeeze, the spirit's face twisted in pain.

Its body seemed to melt, dissolving under the purifying force of divine power.

Zzzz!

Rod lightly swung his clawed hand, and the sharp talons scraped the iron shelves.

The flying sparks illuminated everything around him.

Though it was just a moment, it was enough.

Swish!

Rod vanished, reappearing behind a spirit.

Guided purely by instinct, he lashed out with a claw, piercing through the spirit's chest from behind.

Sacrifice!

In a flash of light, the wailing spirit was purified instantly.

Rod, like a phantom, moved swiftly through the confined basement.

In mere moments, the dozens of spirits were slaughtered.

Swish!

A light burst forth, tearing through the darkness that had enveloped the basement.

Rod looked down at the resurrected evil spirit lying on the ground, covered in blood, its gaze fierce yet confused.

His lips curled into a slight smile.

"What a perfect specimen!"

The evil spirit, now only a step away from Rod, was suddenly gripped by a feeling of fear.

For the first time since its birth, it experienced this emotion because of a human.

It tried to turn and escape, but the next second, Rod's chain blade severed its limbs.

"You've come this far, so why leave in such a hurry?"

Rod chuckled, though to the evil spirit, this smile was more terrifying than a demon's.

Who was the real evil spirit here—was it Rod or the creature?