Mythos Reboot

Chapter 5

Wayne remained silent, swallowing hard to steady himself. Holding his breath, he focused on William's palm, but the light vanished instantly - so quickly he almost thought it was an illusion.

When hearing the urban legend, Wayne felt a premonition—this world wasn't as simple as it appeared on the surface.

The scene he just witnessed undoubtedly confirmed his suspicion.

Terrible. As an ordinary person, Wayne sensed the world's malice toward him. Compared to unknown magical elements, he'd prefer everyone to remain as mundane as himself.

Unless… he wasn't ordinary either.

The Book of Avarice!

At this moment, Wayne felt an unprecedented urge to open this book.

“Who branded you with this mark？”

Faced with William's interrogation, Abel looked even more bewildered. After a moment, he seemed to recall something—but when he tried to speak, the Death Cultist's mark on his hand suddenly transformed.

The inverted triangle extended four tentacle-like appendages on each side, writhing like a simplified black spider.

The symbol carved deep into bones and soul—far beyond being mere surface tattoos. The eight spider-leg toxins rapidly spread through blood vessels, visibly crawling up and occupying the entire arm.

Abel groaned in agony, seemingly engaged in some kind of resistance and struggle, his facial features contorted together. The more he struggled, the greater his suffering became. At this moment, let alone speaking, even breathing became extremely difficult.

William tightened his five fingers like iron pincers, firmly gripping Abel's wrist. The warm glow surged again, dispelling the darkness and forcing the eight spider legs back.

Abel's groans immediately turned into sounds of relief. Meanwhile, the Book of Avarice once again expressed its desire, making even Wayne crave it.

Very bad - the target is William.

Thanks to William's assistance, Abel's pain greatly diminished, and he reverted to his simpleton state. He babbled as he began speaking about a gathering in the warehouse district.

Abel didn't know much. He wasn't familiar with the Death Cult - to be precise, he wasn't even a peripheral member, just a mistakenly recruited believer.

His years of hard labor left him with unsteady steps, vacant eyes, and a gaunt, lifeless frame, which caught the attention of nearby Death Goddess devotees, leading him to mistakenly enter their warehouse district stronghold.

Outnumbered, Abel dared not resist. After downing a glass of dark rum, the mark of a Death Goddess believer appeared on the back of his hand.

The information provided by Abel was trivial at best, with only the warehouse district stronghold warranting further investigation. Under William's persistent questioning, Abel revealed several more names.

Among them, the name of dockworker Brutus caught the group's attention.

Madam Lina, Abel, and Brutus were all interconnected. The Deathwalker aura on Madam Lina most likely originated from Brutus. Even if he wasn't a true Deathwalker, he would still be a crucial lead.

“Let's go, to the warehouse district!”

Without hesitation, Veronica strode out the door with her black cat in arms.

William knocked Abel unconscious, threw a blanket over him, and hurried after her.

Wayne stood frozen for a moment—his instincts warned him this venture would be dangerous, that he'd surely regret going. But not going…

He'd regret it even more!

Thinking of this perilous world and the unopenable Book of Avarice, he gritted his teeth and followed.

“Are we heading to the warehouse district right now？”

On the street, Wayne checked his watch and hesitated. "It's getting late—we'll arrive after dark."

The round trip from the docks to Abel's apartment and back to the warehouse district near the docks took considerable time. Though Wayne wouldn't admit it aloud, deep down he strongly disliked the nights in Lundun. If possible, he would have preferred setting out tomorrow morning.

William noticed Wayne's hesitation and slapped him on the shoulder with his broad, powerful hand—astonishingly warm—even giving it a squeeze: "You must have already guessed it. Yes, both Veronica and I are magicians. Though the night may be frightening, moonlight will guide us. We'll be fine."

You could just say it without getting handsy!

And furthermore, it makes sense for a pretty girl like Veronica to be a magician, but how does a muscle-bound guy like you qualify？ Couldn't they find anyone else？

Feeling William's strong, warm hand, Wayne's eyelid twitched as he said dryly: "I've only read descriptions of magicians in novels. They say it's very difficult and requires great talent… so… could I become one？"

"Yes, but first, you must find your own faith," William said with a serious expression.

"Shut up. You're talking too much. Don't involve ordinary people in this," Veronica interrupted coldly.

"I know, but Wayne's already been dragged into this. He's reeking of death aura, and Deathwalkers have already marked him…" William retorted defiantly, his voice trailing off at the end.

It was obvious he was quite afraid of Veronica.

Wayne widened his eyes - what did they mean by "reeking of death aura"？ What did they mean by "Deathwalkers have marked him"？ If we're talking life and death, at least explain properly!

"Don't worry, after we wipe out the Death Cult's base in the warehouse district, you'll be safe." William patted Wayne's shoulder again and, while Veronica wasn't looking, channeled a spark of light into Wayne's body.

Veronica shot William a glance but said nothing.

————

In the taxi, Wayne remained silent as if resting with closed eyes, while secretly perusing the Book of Avarice unnoticed by others.

The book opened!

William hadn't taught Wayne what magic was, but he had cast a defensive spell on him - a simple application of magical power and faith, nothing complicated, just enough to protect Wayne from death threats when needed.

Wayne was unaware of this and had no time to find out. The moment the light entered his body, the Book of Avarice instantly swallowed it whole, as if obtaining an activation key, enabling Wayne to browse its contents.

There was little worth seeing—almost all pages were blank.

The good news was that the first page of the Book of Avarice bore Wayne's name. The bad news was that the book felt utterly unfamiliar, a far cry from his original intent when coding it.

Confused, Wayne could only grumble about Jose sneaking in personal additions—or perhaps a bunch of bugs had spawned new features.

When coding the Book of Avarice, Wayne had incorporated numerous settings: title bonuses, attribute doubling, full immunity to all stats, Outer Gods, and more.

Among them was a setting called "Sacrifice," with the effect of offering up a player to seize all items from their inventory and freezing the account for seven days.

Simple, brutal, and utterly unreasonable—it severely disrupted game balance. But as an admin-exclusive artifact, being overpowered was justified; otherwise, it wouldn't command authority.

After all, this was the Fourth Cataclysm. If an admin lacked overwhelming dignity, they'd only end up as a spineless figure brimming with righteous indignation.

Currently, large sections of the Book of Avarice's settings appear grayed out—whether temporarily inaccessible or permanently deleted remains unclear. Even if some functions remain, their effects pale in comparison to the original. Take the "Sacrifice" feature for example: what once required offering a living being now only demands forming a contract with one.

Wayne tried his first choice—Veronica—but the contract failed, dashing his plans to enslave the magical girl.

Reluctantly, he switched to William, yet still failed. Even the black cat Monika proved impossible to contract.

Wayne could understand failing to contract with mages or their pets—his incompetence made him unworthy. But why couldn't he even contract with a taxi driver or random pedestrians？

Finally activating his cheat ability only to find it useless—what a waste, even costing him a spell!

Was the cheat nerfed too hard, or was the user simply too weak？

As Wayne wallowed in frustration, the Book of Avarice finally detected a contractable entity.

No—a vengeful spirit!

Blood-red runes materialized across the blank pages, forming a contract awaiting Wayne's signature.

Without hesitation, Wayne willed his name onto the parchment.

【Humble supplicant, resentful wrongful death soul, I have heard your wail…

Under the witness of sacred covenant, all you possess shall belong to me, you may keep your past but shall lose your future…

You have been granted a chance at rebirth. You shall become the Spirit of Vengeance, wielding the slaughtering blade for your master, for your god, for me】

Hmm, how should I put this… This thing doesn't sound like it comes from a good person!