Chapter 15
2024 Words
I haven’t even resolved the curse on me yet, and now another one？ Can I handle this？
Wayne’s face turned grim as he finally understood the meaning behind the omnipresent warnings. Right now, he wished he could give Bloody Mike a shove to hurry up and complete the ritual.
Wait, no!
If—just if—he was currently within the town as well, would completing the ritual mean he’d also have to "rest in peace"？
With his life hanging by a thread, Wayne blurted out the question directly.
The priest nodded. That’s right—everyone would rest in peace.
Wayne’s entire expression changed, and he spoke rapidly, "Where’s the ritual site？ Tell me now."
The priest didn’t answer directly, explaining that every year he visits Nelson Manor to tend to the graves. A few days ago, he noticed fresh flowers by a tombstone, signaling the return of the Nelson family heir.
“Perhaps he’s here for revenge, but completing the unfinished ritual of the Nelson family could bring peace to everyone. I hope you won’t stop him.”
“But wouldn’t that mean we’d die too？”
“……”
The priest fell silent. That was indeed the case.
He began recounting the town's tragedy—Cafuno Town appeared no different from others at first glance, its residents seemingly ordinary. But every year on this very night, their true faces would be revealed, writhing in scorching flames, their souls trapped in endless torment craving release.
Yet once this night passed, everyone would forget, not even a nightmare remaining.
Wayne and the others pitied the townsfolk's plight and unanimously declined the invitation tickets. Right now, they only wanted to stop the ritual to avoid being "laid to rest" along with them.
The priest naturally wouldn't let them leave. Unfortunately, his rigid thinking prevented him from using advanced divine spells. Veronica shot him mid-incantation, and Wayne followed up with two club strikes, leaving him completely motionless.
The group dashed out of the church. William glanced back and asked doubtfully, "Does this count as being laid to rest？"
Clearly it didn't. The priest's withered body reassembled, missing parts regenerating from thin air. Having possessed magic in life, his recovery far surpassed ordinary townsfolk. Before Wayne's group had gone far, he was already back on his feet and walking.
Dense hordes of zombies surrounded the church, seemingly afraid of something, not daring to recklessly enter the church grounds. They howled, waiting for Wayne and the others to walk right into their trap.
From behind, the priest emerged from the church, clutching a Bible in one hand.
Wayne stood on the lawn between the fence and the gate—wolves ahead, tigers behind—they had to break through as quickly as possible.
Bang!
Veronica turned and blew the priest's head off with a single shot. The impossibly precise marksmanship left Wayne utterly in awe.
Coach, how much does this magic cost？
“We're heading to Nelson Manor—the Deathwalker is definitely there!”
Veronica gritted her teeth, furious. They'd been tricked—always left outside the school gates. Couldn’t the filthy adult world show even a shred of honesty？
“Wayne and I checked—the castle was empty. And we destroyed a summoning ritual inside.”
William hastily added, "Maybe we missed something. But if the Deathwalker really isn't there, we'd be wasting precious time."
Hearing this, Wayne's heart skipped a beat. A realization struck him, and he whirled around to stare back at the church.
The priest knew Mack had returned!
The priest wanted Mack to complete the ritual!
The priest refuses to reveal the ritual location!
The zombies dare not step into church grounds!
Following this line of reasoning, the strange ritual on the castle platform was merely a smokescreen—a pawn to buy time. Everything fell into place.
Wayne's eyes lit up. To prove his deduction, he grabbed at the air and took a deep sniff.
He detected no living scent other than their own—Mac hadn’t been to the church. But… magic could conceal traces. It was possible Mac, meticulous as he was, had erased all evidence to avoid disruption.
As someone once said, only magic can defeat magic!
“By the Goddess, this is my last bit of mana.”
Wayne placed a small bet of faith, staking all his remaining mana. His chest swelled as he inhaled deeply.
Filtering out the scents of the gay guy, the young lady, the black cat, and the pretty boy, he caught the thick stench of death—prompting the Book of Avarice to cast an eager gaze.
Wayne coughed violently, breathless with excitement, and turned to Veronica. "I smell it! Bloody Mac is inside the church!"
“……”
Do you actually have a dog’s nose？"
Not even a dog’s nose is that sharp!"
“It's the blessing of the Moon Goddess—she granted me the scent of beasts…”
Wayne dashed toward the church but stopped abruptly after two steps when he realized no one was following: "What are you waiting for？ Move now!"
William and Veronica exchanged glances. The former nodded, willing to give Wayne a chance, while the latter gritted her teeth—visiting the church wouldn’t waste much time even if it led to nothing.
A conman knows a conman best—what if he actually guessed right this time？
The group rushed into the church. As Wayne passed the priest, who was slowly rising, he swung his club and sent the man’s head flying.
The church was dimly lit. William gathered a bit of magic and waved his hand, conjuring a temporary light source.
Wayne shook his head, pulled out a flashlight from his pocket, and—while his enhanced sense of smell still lingered slightly—headed straight for the backyard through a side door, stopping in front of a row of dormitories.
"Bloody Mike, I know you're in there. Come out—your plan has failed." Wayne's voice was loud, carrying far into the night.
A moment later, the middle door slowly creaked open, and a man in a dark suit emerged.
Mike Nelson.
His attire wasn't fancy, merely formal, and his stature wasn't particularly tall. In his thirties with graying temples, the hardships of his early life had prematurely robbed him of his youth.
One of Mike's eyes glowed with a crimson light as he glanced at the group before putting on white gloves.
On the back of the gloves was painted a black inverted triangle symbol—a magical artifact.
“I spent considerable time setting up a fake ritual at the castle to lure you there, yet you never showed. What can I say？ Bad luck, or did I overestimate you？”
Mike chuckled self-deprecatingly. He had prepared extensively for today's ritual, considering every possibility—including the interference of rogue mages.
In the end, instead of encountering powerful mages, only a few beginners arrived, rendering all his elaborate schemes a futile battle against thin air.
Veronica snorted coldly and rapidly pulled the trigger, her marksmanship flawless as she struck Mike squarely in the chest and head.
Two gaping black holes appeared on Mike's body, yet he didn't collapse as expected. He tapped his temple and said, "Don't waste your effort. I've merged with this town—here, you can't kill me."
Wayne: That's because you haven't shown your health bar!
Veronica frowned and said, "You've accepted the curse, become undead, and are preparing to offer yourself to the Goddess of Death？"
“It's not a curse, it's a law—a very precious one…”
Mike chuckled, "Judging by your appearances, you must still be students. It's understandable that greenhouse flowers from academia don't know the truth of the world. After all, teachers wouldn't teach such profound knowledge, and some don't even know what magic truly is or what they themselves believe in."
Veronica had no patience for his nonsense. She tossed out a canister—an advanced version of edible mushrooms—where hallucinogenic and corrupting spores rapidly grew, feeding on Mike's body to expand themselves while corroding his flesh and mind.
The effect was mediocre. Mike was merely draped in human skin with little substance to offer, and his will was strong enough that the hallucinogenic spores couldn't disrupt his thoughts.
Veronica found the situation troublesome and considered close combat. She took the crowbar Wayne handed her, intending to dismantle Mike piece by piece.
Regardless of the consequences, first comes a round of physical persuasion!
Mike was too well-prepared. With a snap of his fingers, the ground instantly turned into black sludge, as countless arms coiled upward, immobilizing their ankles and pinning them in place.
Monica reacted the fastest, climbing onto Wayne's clothes and perching on his shoulder.
Mike didn't attack directly. There was some kind of connection between him and the black arms as he gazed at Veronica and William in delight. "My apologies. So you are heretics blessed by the Proxy. Excellent—high-quality sacrifices will increase the ritual's success rate."
After speaking, he pushed back his sleeve to glance at his watch, his crimson right eye turning pitch-black as he murmured, "It's coming, this long-delayed night…"
Boom!
The deafening roar echoed like cannon fire. Mike turned toward the sound, only for his vision to blur as he was sent flying backward into the house behind him.
It was Veronica. The dragon-blooded girl's strength was overwhelming. Even with her magic sealed, she could break free from the magical restraints through sheer physical force.
Veronica tossed down a glass vial, and rapidly growing vines swept across the black quagmire, allowing Wayne and the others to escape.
Kaboom!
Rumble——
On the other side, Veronica was unleashing violent attacks, grinding Micah against the ground with frenzied force. Regardless of whether she could actually finish him off, the spectacle was intense—an entire row of dormitories was nearly demolished by her rampage.
Monica leaned close to Wayne's ear and whispered, "Veronica has no magic power—she can't win. I'll transfer my magic to you, and you'll deal with the Deathwalker."
Due to the curse, Monica had lost her original body. Though she wasn't randomly stripped of magic by the curse, she could only cast a few limited support spells.
Moreover, because of their differing faiths, Veronica and William couldn't borrow her magic.
Wayne was different—Monica had once implanted a magic seed in him, making him a standard believer of the Moon Goddess.
At least, that’s what Monica believed—she had recruited a potential asset for the goddess.
“Is this reliable？”
Wayne pursed his lips. While gaining magic was a good thing, he had never studied magic—even with power, he wouldn’t know how to wield it effectively. Plus, the Book of Avarice showed no interest in others' magic…
Wasn’t this just giving him nothing？
Monica said solemnly: "Magic isn't that complicated. Its manifestation depends on your thoughts. Use your imagination - envision the most powerful magic in your mind, but don't go too far. If it backfires, I'll suffer the consequences too."
“Remember, magic is just the lever; your thoughts are the key!”
Wayne became even more confused. The most powerful magic in his mind was something called an "atomic bomb" - an everyday item generating temperatures over 4000 degrees, treating all life equally. Could this thing really be conjured with magic？
“Have you thought of something？”
“I have one idea - something that goes boom with blinding light and intense heat. Would that work？ Though it feels more like something for the Sun Goddess…”
“No problem, the Moonlight Goddess can achieve that too.”
“……”
For real？ Followers should respect science - one-upmanship isn't advisable.
Wayne looked conflicted. Monica was confident it would work, but he had little faith himself. The key issue was - even if successful, he wouldn't escape unscathed.
As magical energy surged into his body, Wayne had no time for further contemplation. An image flashed through his mind, immediately energizing him.
I choose you!
- Writer
