Test Subject

As the master of magic uncovered this phenomenon, he delved into a comparative study of incantations, seeking the most succinct expressions of the same magic amidst the vast ocean of arcane scripts. Ultimately, he synthesized a novel magical language: the Mace Magic Script. This unique form of writing, created solely for the application of magic, could distill hundreds or even thousands of words of spells into a single phrase or mere nonsensical characters, significantly enhancing the efficiency with which sorcerers could cast their spells. 

What I held in my hands was a manuscript crafted by this ancient magical master himself, its value as a relic rivaling its magical worth. On the last line of the title page, I beheld the signature of this long-ago master of the arcane. While the signature bore no particular significance to me, the prefix that preceded it sent a jolt of realization through my heart: ***Mage of the Kingdom of Faste...*** Even with my limited knowledge of geography, I was aware that there were only seven continents on Earth: Asia, Europe, North and South America, Africa, Antarctica, and Oceania; there was no ***continent*** of that name, nor had I ever heard of any of these seven being referred to by such a moniker. 

Though I was uncertain of what nation the Kingdom of Faste belonged to amidst the convoluted tapestry of European history, I was certain that no historical record mentioned a title akin to ***court mage***. In other words, this ancient master of magic was clearly not a figure from our reality. This was hardly surprising; only a place like Demon Island would harbor such magical phenomena. This thought brought to mind the coastline I had seen on the magical map, igniting a restless desire to explore just how expansive this world truly was. Beside me, Lilith gently brushed her palm against my thigh, the sensual stimulation abruptly jolting me back to reality, compelling me to silently stow away this precious gift for later examination. 

After me, Hachi Masaru opened his wooden box, a look of sheer elation flooding his face. He rose and bowed deeply to Snoke, murmuring, "Although this item falls short of my ultimate goal at Demon Island, I am profoundly grateful. Should the Locke Group have any needs in exorcism, I, Hachi Masaru, shall not refuse." 

The wooden box Hachi Masaru possessed was quite elongated, and from it, he retrieved a long bone knife. The hilt of the knife featured seven hollowed holes, one of which was set with a vibrant green gemstone. The entire blade radiated a powerful energy surge, far surpassing that of the ancient sword, Geyue. 

This was an ancient relic of demon-slaying, known as the Authentic Crescent Moon. Though only one gem remained from the Tri-Monthly Magic Stones, it remained exceedingly precious. Hachi Masaru murmured to himself, clearly enamored with the bone knife, and he immediately donned it. I inhaled deeply, my mind racing with the thought, "What a grand investment!" 

It was evident that the Locke Group had expended considerable effort, preparing with a level of commitment that was nothing short of remarkable. My thoughts escaped my lips: "If I am not mistaken, the Wolf King's item must be a magical artifact related to becoming a werewolf." 

The Wolf King reached out, his formidable grip instantly crushing the wooden box to splinters. Inside lay a vial of serum. He chuckled menacingly and turned to Snoke, asking, "What is this?" A manual lay beneath it. 

"I have a significant question: if the Locke Group is willing to pay such a steep price, why are your internal personnel so weak? Wouldn't enhancing your powers be more reliable than hiring us?" 

The Wolf King's inquiry mirrored my own, yet I did not see myself as a suitable candidate to voice such a concern. 

Snoke responded swiftly, presenting a similar wooden box and softly stating, "This war has inflicted substantial losses on the Locke Group, making it exceedingly difficult to find capable individuals to carry out tasks." 

Both I and the bullet were experimental subjects; the three women were merely ordinary mercenaries. Snoke opened his box without even glancing at its contents and injected the serum into his arm, forcefully pushing the liquid into his veins. He then emitted a series of maniacal laughs, quietly declaring, "If I survive this, we leave immediately." 

I could see the muscles in Snoke's face contorting, clearly overwhelmed by physical agony. He gestured languidly, and the manual from the wooden box fell into his grasp. The description read: **Prototype Number Five of Muscle Amplification Magic Potion—capable of enhancing muscle strength by eighteen to thirty-five times, increasing physical durability by five to eight times. Specifically designed for undead-type experimental subjects, it may induce intense pain, and the outcome is unpredictable.** 

I tore the manual into fragments, my feelings toward the Locke Group soured; it was evident they treated Snoke and his cohort as mere tools, utterly indifferent to their well-being. 

I quietly asked Lilith, "What did you acquire?" 

Lilith, showing no resistance, promptly produced a small, elegant ring, whispering, "It's a treasure that can summon a type of small magical beast. I haven't tried it yet. It is said to have originated from Demon Island, acquired by the mercenary group during a mission." I shook my head, declining to accept Lilith's ring, instead focusing on the Wolf King. This beastly man was engrossed in reading the manual. 

Sensing my gaze, he glanced up and grinned, "It's a genetic serum. There's still a gap before I can become a werewolf, but its effectiveness is notable." 

I felt no compulsion to meddle in the decisions of others, so I simply closed my eyes to rest in the café. I had secretly resolved that after this adventure, I would part ways with these unreliable companions and seek a means to return, escaping this life fraught with constant danger and the ever-present specter of death. 

Though I possessed both a Red Spider helicopter and a flying magic carpet as means of transportation, my proposal to capture the Thunderbird and create magical wings was nonetheless approved by Snoke. He, a seasoned veteran of combat, understood the importance of backup transport during such critical times. 

Demon Island certainly had modern transportation options like helicopters for sale, but for us, they were exorbitantly priced—at least twenty times more than those outside—making them utterly unworthy of purchase. As for flying magic carpets, they were so prohibitively expensive that even I could not afford them; thus, the Eternal Wing Technique remained our most convenient choice.