NOVPUB"...Shadow Soul?"
Upon seeing the tattered cloth flying in the sky, the Philosopher immediately guessed the other’s identity.
She gawked across at the other side.
As a noble of Star Antimony and a senior Demon Scholar, she was also very familiar with the Path of Dusk.
Now the group vying for influence with the Demon Scholars were the Alchemists, while the Necromancers always maintained neutrality. Neutrality meant maintaining good relations with both sides. From this perspective, the necromancers of Star Antimony were actually the best glue.
After all, the Path of Dusk was all about not moving unless the enemy moved, and even if the enemy acted chaotically, they would still not budge—in short, they would stay still whenever possible. If they could, it was best to see no one and just continue their peaceful everyday lives without any change, forever.
Those who were not afraid of trouble could not gain recognition from the Path of Dusk.
And precisely because of this characteristic, Transcendents solely of the Path of Dusk simply could not support a faction or lead a country on their own.
Because all the people here shirked work, did not strive, and did not want to take responsibility. If trouble arose, no one would stand up.
Conversely to this laziness, all Transcendents of the Path of Dusk were of high utility—the Necromancers could resurrect the undead and modify them, and the Preservers could solidify objects, buildings, and rituals. Therefore, in order not to be annihilated, the Transcendents of the Path of Dusk could only choose to join other factions. In Star Antimony, the two largest factions were the Demon Scholars and the Alchemists.
Within this hierarchy, Demon Scholars and Alchemists gradually came to understand the various abilities of Transcendents of the Path of Dusk. 𝘯𝑜𝘷𝘱𝘶𝑏.𝘤𝘰𝑚
The Philosopher was therefore surprised—because the Shadow Soul looked entirely like a Necromancer. Whether it was from the code name or temperament, there was a cold, stiff, and gloomy feeling.
—But this ability was not in any way that of a Necromancer.
It was the ability of a Preserver, "Corpse Preservation"!
The body would enter a state of suspended animation and be preserved in a safe, portable dimension. Then, one could control a demonized substitute to act on their behalf.
Due to a lack of materials, the traps set by the Philosopher were mostly triggered by stepping or tripping wires. The Shadow Soul floated straight over, so no traps were triggered.
—And because of this very reason, the previous ritual spell cast by the Philosopher didn’t hit the robe at all. It merely floated up and could easily dodge the attack by sticking to the ceiling.
What kind of Preserver names themselves Shadow Soul?
The Philosopher was almost ready to curse out loud.
But she was left with only the last portion of materials. Even if she could destroy this substitute, once the Shadow Soul revealed its true form, she would still be outmatched.
So she raised her hands directly, "I surrender, Shadow Soul. I’m Alai, and we can cooperate."
"—No, you are not Alai."
The chilling denial of the Shadow Soul echoed, "Alai is a woman and can only become a man in this ceremony."
Its voice was ghostly, as though drifting from an empty distance, "I give you one more chance. Who are you?"
"Alright, I am the Philosopher. I am a Mage of the Path of Wisdom, capable of unraveling various traps and puzzles, and there’s no harm in bringing me along."
The Philosopher candidly admitted her identity—mainly because she really had no more clothes to wear.
She revealed a somewhat rigid smile, making an effort to appear friendly, "Look, we’re both alone. We haven’t found our teammates... so, if only one of us escapes from here, it might trigger a special rule and result in failure. But if we escape together, then we’re certain to survive."
That’s what she had said to the Hatter before.
This time the lines were practically unchanged, but she was confident there would be no problem.
Because the other party didn’t know how much mana she had left, and was aware she still had one portion of ritual material. Fighting with her in such a confined space with no room for evasion would only result in mutual destruction.
If everyone survived, even if the mission’s score fell short and resulted in a failure, at least the punishment wouldn’t be too severe. From another perspective, she had already set traps. If no one could leave through the secret passage and pass the level, then the only person who left would be defeated under the influence of special rules.
Killing her offered no benefit, fighting her was risky, and victory might lead to failure—
From any angle, there was no room to refuse her proposal.
But the Shadow Soul just chuckled darkly, giving an answer she wholly didn’t expect, "Then who’s the material you’re carrying? And who is he?"
"Being able to use ’Bull’s Fire’ means that material comes from a man. And among the three of you, there isn’t a woman, right?"
—What should I do, how should I respond?
With the Foundry dead, she didn’t know if Janet was an ally of the Shadow Soul. So, should she say the body belonged to Alai or the Hatter?
The Philosopher fell silent for a moment.
Yet, the Shadow Soul did not wait for an answer to this question, "But it doesn’t matter who it is. People of the Path of Wisdom are too deceitful, and I cannot discern your lies and schemes. So I won’t listen to anything you say."
"Wait, wait, think about what I’m saying! My point is—"
"Enough. I don’t want to hear it."
The cold reply of the Shadow Soul cut off further words, "Shut up."
A dull yellow glow kindled from within the black robe.
A premonition of death rose within the Philosopher—
She immediately threw herself to the side, trying to dodge the petrifying ray that shot forward like a pistol.
She evaded, but not completely.
The Philosopher had dodged the direct hit of the petrifying beam, but a burst of yellow light, like the flash of a camera, momentarily blazed. Her movements then suddenly slowed down.
She floated in the air, moving in slow motion, frame by frame.
—That was the Preserver’s spell of Slowness!
The spell took effect in an instant, but required both eyes to be intently focused on the caster’s point of activation to work.
But when…
"No, it’s the Preserver’s Sequence spell—"
The Philosopher was abruptly startled, aghast in her heart.
You gave me the Sequence spell?!
Preservers could pre-save one of their highest energy level spells to be automatically triggered under specific conditions. By doing so, one could effectively preserve the previous day’s mana pool to the next day… And the trigger for this spell was obviously "when someone successfully evades the petrification beam."
Because to avoid the petrification beam, one must concentrate intently and stare at the opponent to dodge. And that’s when the Slowness spell would hit.
—Where did you get the mana to cast so many spells!
The Philosopher felt despair.
And at that moment, a young man’s arm reached out from the cloak.
"How cute, girl," a frivolous male voice rang out, "but such dangerous things are better not kept at hand."
In the Philosopher’s fear, the last of her ritual pack was effortlessly flung away by that hand.
"May I taste her? She’s so cute."
The man’s voice sounded, as if seeking someone’s opinion.
"No, you may not."
An icy voice of the Shadow Soul spoke: "Control yourself, you stupid woman. And hurry up, I can’t stop her for long."
"Alright, alright..."
The man said with a smirk, emerging from the tattered cloak as if he had been wearing it all along.
Like other Blood Slaves, he had a handsome face, was completely nude, with bulging muscles all over his body. He had short black hair, his body teemed with vibrant life, blatantly revealing his instincts and desires.
He grabbed the Philosopher’s neck and kissed her forehead tenderly amidst her fearful gaze.
"Goodnight, sweetheart. Such a pity, we are short on time."
He said softly, then his grip on the Philosopher’s right arm suddenly bulged with an abnormal musculature.
A multitude of tentacles made of blood burst from his right arm, stabbing into the Philosopher’s entire body.
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Under the pain and fear, the Philosopher let out a piercing scream. The man, however, just laughed heartily, lifting her high by the neck.
He used his other hand to cover the Philosopher’s mouth, then his left hand also thrummed with many tentacles, engulfing her petite body.
When the tentacles dispersed, all that remained was a pristine skeleton scattered on the ground.
—"Okay, the blood pool is replenished."
The man said cheerfully, patting his stomach: "Do you want to catch her soul?"
"You imbecile, this is in the middle of a ritual. I can’t catch it," the Shadow Soul’s elusive voice retorted. "Finish up and come back quickly, I’m suddenly having a bad feeling..."
"Oh, I feel it too. There are two women’s heartbeats, one healthy and one weak. They have been watching from the sidelines for quite a while."
The man looked confidently towards a nearby shadow, grinning, "But I think there’s no need to run, Shadow Soul. This is my turf—I have the absolute advantage, they are no match for me.
"Are you... Prohibition and Stranger? Are you here to avenge your comrade? Then you are truly too late."
"Sorry."
Aiwass’s light voice drifted from the shadows: "You’ve mistaken the person, Miss Janet."
Beyard’s glasses reflected his cold, arrogant face as he appeared right behind, causing the man’s confident smile to falter.
His heart skipped a beat.
Why would the Son of the Moon be waiting in the secret passage?
—"It’s a trap! Run!"
The Shadow Soul shouted fiercely.
