CHAPTER 6: BATTLE OF MAGES

It was Wayne’s first time signing a slave contract, so he was understandably nervous. He hurriedly flipped through the Book of Greed, wondering who the lucky guy was. The answer wasn’t ideal. Not only did the soul belong to a dead spirit, but it wasn’t even a guy. It was a dog!

The moment he signed the contract, an index filled the second page of the book, which led him to the page for the vengeful spirit. Its visage assaulted his eyes.

It was a rabid dog with a half-rotten body. Its gum was exposed, and it had one greyed eye and an empty socket. Its ribs were visible through its abdomen, with all of its internal organs gone. What remained of its black fur clung to its rotting muscle tissue, and along with the dark yellow fluids leaking out of different parts of its body, it barely maintained its broken form.

Despite it only being a drawing, the macabre creature made Wayne’s stomach churn, and a repulsive odor assaulted his sense of smell. He retched, almost throwing up.

“If you dare to vomit in my car, mister, I’ll throw you out,” the taxi driver harrumphed. The car was his beloved; he would not allow anyone to defile it.

“Don’t blame me. Your car smells foul.” Yes, totally the fault of the driver’s beloved for having a terrible odor.

After the little interlude, Wayne continued reading the page for the vengeful spirit. There was both good news and bad news.

The wraith was transformed into a magical creature by the Book of Greed the moment the contract formed. As Wayne's contractee, servant, and summon, the vengeful spirit relied entirely on his mana for sustenance.

Since Wayne possessed no mana of his own, he had only been able to open the Book of Greed and bond with his first servant thanks to William's magic. This meant he couldn't actually summon or command it. If the vengeful spirit went without its master's mana for too long, it would lose sanity from hunger until eventually ceasing to exist.

The vengeful spirit had two options under these circumstances: first, kill its master to liberate itself and find a new life as an urban legend roaming the misty night; second, wait for its death and devote its last energy to cursing its master before vanishing.

Wayne shuddered at the thought of his servant invading his dreams in the small hours. He told himself that dogs were loyal creatures and humans’ best friends. They surely weren’t capable of evil deeds like attacking their master.

The silver lining was that the contracting power shared some similarities with the sacrifice mechanic. It granted Wayne two of his servant’s abilities: keen smell and supernatural sense.

The former was self-explanatory. Dogs were known for their sensitive noses; the latter was equally easy to understand. For a dog, it manifested as animal instinct; for humans, as the sixth sense.

The two abilities weren’t active skills that required mana, but passive traits that had become part of Wayne upon acquisition. He could increase their range and effectiveness by using mana, which unfortunately, he didn’t have.

How did things turn out like this? He had opened the Book of Greed and acquired a servant, thus becoming part of the supernatural world. These two remarkable developments should have been cause for celebration, but how... why...

Why were both skills supportive rather than offensive skills?

Wayne wallowed in self-pity during the drive until the taxi arrived at the warehouse area at sunset. He was a complete novice—weak, helpless, and pitiful. The massive warehouses loomed like sprawling behemoths. He could already envision himself being torn to pieces upon entering.

The base of the Death Sect was located in Warehouse Sixty-six in Section F, a twenty-minute walk from the entrance. Wayne wondered if it was too late for him to learn magic now.

Face ashen, he stared wordlessly at Veronica as she made her way toward the back of the warehouse. He recognized the pincer strategy; she would be attacking from the back, while they took the front, but wouldn’t they just end up getting caught together?

“I respect your courage and determination to fight evil until the end, Wayne,” William said, giving him a two-finger salute while dragging him forward with his other hand. “You’re terrified, but you still came with us.”

“Courage is the best of humanity. For justice, I will contribute what little I can.” The noble words were at odds with Wayne’s weak tone. In truth, he had come because of Veronica and William. Who knew when he would encounter another mage, if ever? His motive had nothing to do with courage or conviction.

“Don’t worry. Veronica is amazing, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I sure hope so!

Although William batted for the other team and could probably reorganize a fellow man’s innards, Wayne had to admit that his sturdy build was a great source of security, and he found himself relaxing. Moreover, William was right. Veronica was amazing. Her beauty alone could blind a city with its radiance. He was sure she would attract all the firepower from the enemy’s side.

***

At six o’clock in the evening, the sun sank below the horizon, and street lamps sparked into life in the warehouse area. Mist soon followed, gently blanketing the entire city of Londan.

Wayne’s newly acquired supernatural sense raised an alarm. His instinct told him that nights in the city were perilous, and he should head home to wrap himself in the safe cocoon of his blanket. Unfortunately, the misty way home would be fraught with danger. Since he didn’t dare to make the trip alone, he chose to stay by William’s side.

“The smell of death... There, a barrier. We’re in the right place...”

William observed Warehouse Sixty-six from a distance. He took a black cloak from his briefcase and covered his burly frame. After some consideration, he fished out another and handed it to Wayne. It was Veronica’s, so there wasn’t enough fabric to cover him properly.

“Stay behind me. If a fight breaks out, stay clear...”

With darkness and mist as cover, William stepped through the barrier, fully composed. It was a simple detection barrier that could do little but alert the spellcaster, which told him that the followers gathering in the warehouse would pose little threat. He easily bypassed the alert.

He didn’t have to do anything to conceal Wayne. The thick shroud of death enveloping him caused the barrier to recognize him as one of their own, triggering no alarm.

Wayne, meanwhile, was wondering whether the barrier would provide him with mana. Since the Book of Greed had managed to devour William’s magic, it stood to reason that it could devour the magical barrier. Perhaps he would secure a powerful servant with his second contract, one that would grant him offensive skills.

Unfortunately, things didn’t go his way. The Book of Greed wasn’t going to feed on anything after it had opened. It had become picky, so Wayne would have to use his own mana if he wanted to utilize the book. Once again, he faced the same predicament: he didn’t have mana!

He had never wanted to become a mage more than he did at this moment.

Outside the warehouse, William pressed his ear to the door. It was a bold method for eavesdropping, or simply inexperienced. Wayne frowned in disapproval but didn’t think he was in any position to make criticisms, given how much of a weakling he was. Perhaps the straightforwardness was typical for a mage.

After a while, William heard voices chanting in prayer, praising the Goddess of Death in a chorus. He gingerly opened the door and slipped in, beckoning to Wayne.

Seriously. Wayne stifled a sigh, not wanting to alert the followers to their presence. The misty warehouse area looked like home to wandering spirits, so instead of turning away, he followed William in resignation.

William closed the door politely and started muttering unintelligibly, joining the followers’ chorus like he was one of them.

***

Approximately twenty people stood in the heart of the warehouse, all wearing black cloaks. Standing in a circle around a pattern formed by candles, they made an X with their arms held against their chests, fists clenched. The dim candlelight was too weak to stretch their shadows fully. The light danced on their faces while their eerie prayers filled the space. Everything about the scene made Wayne’s hair stand on end.

The followers were obviously dangerous if their outfit was anything to go by.

Walking past a shelf, Wayne picked up a crowbar and muttered random syllables to blend into the circle of followers. They were so focused that they didn’t realize there were two strangers in their ranks.

Wayne pretended to praise the goddess as he inspected the candles on the ground. The pattern they formed was the familiar upside-down triangle. The setup for the ritual was simple. There was no blood or sacrifice, no innocent girl getting her stomach carved open.

The followers’ devout prayers reached Death, and Death responded. The candles went dark, and the upside-down triangle turned pitch black. Eight tentacles stretched from the triangle’s sides toward the ceiling of the warehouse, wriggling erratically.

Wayne lost himself to the sight. Suddenly, he heard a deep voice whispering to him, asking if he would devote himself without reservation.

Wait, why does the Goddess of Death sound like a man?Is the Goddess a male deity who puts on a drag to better attract followers?

His derailed train of thought interrupted the whispers, waking him from his dazed state. He realized that the followers had stopped chanting and were all looking at him.

He gulped as he suddenly became the center of attention.

He couldn’t see their faces in the dark, and the cloaks obscured half of their faces, so his imagination filled in the gaps with vicious scowls and eyes blazing with fury. To make things worse, William had joined the thugs. Glowering and cursing, he backed his way to the back of the group.

You promised to protect me! Wayne whined silently.

“Intruder, you are in the wrong place.”

A man stepped forward and gestured for his fellow followers to subdue Wayne with a swing of his arm. He was most likely their leader. It seemed that he had sensed the death energy around Wayne. With a smile, he vowed to convert Wayne tonight with the Goddess’s blessing.

Your goddess is a man! With a manly voice! Wayne staggered back with the crowbar held before his chest. He felt emboldened when the followers halted. I take it back. Crowbar is a man’s true best friend!

His relief was short-lived, however. The followers each grabbed a steel pipe from the shelves and advanced toward him with menacing grins.

He was sweating profusely now. “This isn’t important enough for you to get into armed fights over,” he squeaked. “Why... why don’t we use our bare hands? That’ll get you a shorter sentence.”

Clang!

Green mist rose from the ground, giving rise to lively vegetation and disrupting Death’s advance. The eight spindly tentacles went slack.

“Damn, it’s Nature’s pawn!”

“Capture the heretic! She must pay for disrupting our sacred ritual!”

Under the leader’s enraged command, the followers shifted their focus to Veronica and charged at her with their steel pipes raised. At that moment, light flooded the warehouse; William had found the switch on the wall.

Veronica narrowed her eyes. Facing the twenty-something thugs, she, without ever breaking composure, took a small, intricate handgun from her purse and raised it.

“Don’t move, or I’ll shoot.”

The followers froze in unison. When William bellowed at them to comply, they cursed but lowered their weapons, lining up against the wall with their hands pressed against it.

Really? Wayne was flabbergasted. That’s it? This is the cruel clash between faiths and the battle of mages? You cowards! Aren’t you followers of the Goddess of Death? Then you should embrace death! It’s your paradise!

Just some friendly advice from a bystander: that gun has no more than ten bullets, while there are more than twenty of you. Just rush her all at once! She can’t win!